Tea and biscuits
by NancyMay
Summary: Set after S4, originally supposed to be a very short story, but inspiration has struck and there will be more that one chapter. Somewhat dark in places, a case for Lucien that impacts on his love for Jean and his need to keep her safe. Reviews and comments welcome as always.
1. Chapter 1

**This started out as a short one shot about coming home with more than they went away with, but due to hearing an interview on the radio I've decided to turn it into a longer story with a dark case for Lucien. Hope you like it.**

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Jean leant back in the lounger, grateful for the cool breeze from the ocean. She had no idea what ailed her. She'd not had any problems with the sailing to Southampton or any of the flights she and Lucien had taken on their honeymoon. So why on earth, on in this case, on water, had she thrown up so spectacularly this morning? Lucien had been concerned she had eaten something that was not fresh, but she had not been able to keep her breakfast down either. Tea was all she had taken and now she felt hungry, but was sure nothing would stay down.

'Jean,' his voice soft and soothing brought her round from her reverie. 'Jean, I've got some dry biscuits, do you think they would help?'

Shielding her eyes from the early morning sun she looked up at him.

'I'm so hungry, Lucien.' She half smiled, 'I'll try anything.' Being hungry only made her feel worse.

Lucien smoothed the hair from her pale and damp forehead and smiled sympathetically.

She took a biscuit and nibbled the edge, the sweetness was welcome, but it was so dry it was hard to get down. Lucien produced a glass of cool water and that helped. She managed to get one biscuit down and half the glass of water. She paused, waiting for her body to react and when it didn't she started on the second, washing it down with the water. Leaning back in the chair again she sighed.

'Sorry, darling.' She smiled, 'I don't know what's wrong.'

He leant over and kissed her tenderly. He hated to see her so pale and obviously unwell.

'I've been to see if there are any issues with the food preparation, and it seems everything is in order.' Lucien told her. 'Maybe you've picked something up from another passenger.'

'I'm sure there's a simple explanation and I'll get over whatever it is.' The biscuits had done the trick and she was beginning to feel more like herself.

'Well, best stick to plain food for now.' Lucien advised, 'help you stomach to settle.'

'I'll take your advice, doctor.' She grinned, much more like her usual self, thought her husband.

As the day wore on Jean felt much better and was able to eat a reasonable lunch, albeit plain, but it filled the empty space that was her stomach.

They had two more weeks before they docked in Sydney, and then a flight to Adelaide to see Christopher and the family. The two weeks were the longest of Jean's life. She was sick every morning. Lucien voiced his thoughts one evening as they lay in bed. He traced his fingers over her belly. They had been married two months before they had been able to start their honeymoon and had been away another two months. From the wedding night they had not been able to keep their hands off each other, making up for lost time, time that they both regretted wasting because of the gossip and sniping round town.

'Jean?' Lucien's voice held a question.

'Mmm...' She loved the way he stroked any part of her, and particularly the way he was stroking her belly at that moment.

'Jean, erm, this sickness you're suffering from?' He was fairly sure he was going to get a thump for what he was about to suggest, 'Jean, you don't think you might be,' a big sigh, 'pregnant, do you?'

'Lucien...' she was about to say it was ridiculous, but, her mother had gone through the change rather late and she couldn't say she was going through the change, nothing had indicated it. She was still regular in her cycle, she had no hot flushes and she wasn't that old. She put her hand to her mouth her eyes wide with surprise. 'No,' she gasped.

Lucien wasn't sure if he should look pleased or not, he was, but he needed to know that Jean was happy about it. It wasn't something they had thought about, they were just happy to be man and wife; children had not been a consideration, well not at their age.

'Oh, Lucien, do you really think so?' She looked into his eyes, the clear blue that she adored.

'Well,' he drew the word out, 'it all points to it. Morning sickness, no...er...you know, monthlies.'

'You notice!' Her voice rose, that was part of her bodily functions that she never discussed with him or had done with Christopher for that matter.

'You..' She had no idea he kept track!

'Jean, I'm a doctor.' He raised his eyebrows, 'if I didn't, I wouldn't be much of either a doctor or a husband.' He thought back to Mei Lin, pushing him away during that time.

'Oh Lucien.' She didn't know what to think, but ...'I never thought we could...I mean, our age, my age, a baby!' She began to blush, what would people say?

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her tenderly, then more deeply. As she broke the connection he smirked,

'Bit late for that now!' And that did earn him a thump!

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They docked early in the morning, unfortunately for Jean. The morning sickness had not subsided, she and Lucien had gone back in time and had worked out she was probably about eight weeks gone. Too early to let people know, especially, she warned Lucien, Christopher and Ruby. They had managed to hide it from the ship's crew and passengers by simply asking for breakfast to be served in their cabin, the dry toast was all Jean could stomach, that and tea, until mid morning.

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Lucien helped his wife disembark from the ship and ushered her to the waiting taxi, which would take them to the airport. It was a short drive and a short flight, during which Jean managed to regain some of her composure. She wanted desperately to appear well and happy as she greeted her son and daughter-in-law, but in truth she felt dreadful. The sickness combined with the time difference was hard to bear and Lucien noticed. He hailed a taxi and they went straight to their hotel instead of to Christopher's house on the base. Settling her on the bed for a nap he went down to the lobby and phoned the junior Beazley's home. Ruby answered, happy to hear they were back on home soil but sorry to hear Jean was not feeling well. Lucien assured her it was just tiredness and that they would see them the following day for lunch. Before he headed back upstairs he ordered some tea and biscuits for them. The biscuits would help to settle Jean's stomach and the tea would rehydrate her.

As he entered the bedroom she stirred and opened her eyes.

'I've phoned Ruby and told her you're feeling tired from the travelling. We'll meet for lunch tomorrow, if you're feeling up to it.' He bent over her and kissed her cheek, feeling her arms move round his neck. His arms encircled her and he pulled her up into a sitting position.

'Thank you.' She kissed him.

'Not a problem.' He returned the kiss, thinking this was how they got into this situation in the first place.

'Not just for that.' She pulled back to look at him, 'for the trip, for making the call, for this,' she placed her hand on her stomach, 'for everything. I love you so much.'

She cuddled into him while she nibbled the biscuits and drank the welcome tea.

'Were you this sick with the boys?' Lucien had felt that once Jean had realised why she was like this every morning she would be able to cope better.

'No. Sailed through both. Ate anything and everything. Apart from the physical signs, the bump, you wouldn't have known I was pregnant.' She looked at him, 'This is totally different.'

'Maybe it's a girl.' Lucien suggested.

Jean thought about this. If she was to have his child she thought he'd have wanted a boy. She had always wanted a daughter, as much as she loved her boys.

'Would you mind? If it is a girl.' She sat up properly and turned to him, 'I mean don't you want a son?'

'Jean, I didn't think we'd have any, it never occurred to me. Not much of a doctor am I.' He grinned, 'I don't care either way, as long as you are both well.'

'Are you saying I'm too old to have a baby?' She teased him, she'd had exactly the same thoughts. It hadn't occurred to her either.

'Err...' he went red, had he done it again? Insulted her?

Jean threw back her head and laughed. 'Oh Lucien,' she sighed, 'what am I going to do with you?'

Pulling her into his arms he whispered into her ear, 'I've got a pretty good idea.'

She undid the buttons of his shirt and wrapped her arms round his torso and placed her head so she could hear the reassuring steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Lucien held her and stroked her back gently. He pushed off his shoes and pulled her down onto the bed, realising how tired he also was from their travels he allowed his eyes to close.

They slept for at least an hour and awoke refreshed, the mid morning sun streaming through the window He ordered more tea and biscuits for her while they sat and talked about what they were going to do in the following few days.

Sitting on the bed sipping tea and nibbling her biscuits Jean thought about what their future held for them. A baby would keep them active, tongues would wag in town; nothing new there; Lucien may not be so reckless with his safety, she would have to reorganise her time. She smiled.

'What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?' Lucien had been watching her, wondering what she was thinking about.

'Just thinking. More gossip, raised eyebrows,' She spoke quietly, 'Try and keep yourself safe, Lucien, please.' She looked up at him through her lashes, 'You can be a bit reckless sometimes.'

It was true, he thought, so often he gave little thought to his own safety, but now he had two reasons to back away from danger.

'I will try, I promise.' He leant over and kissed her. 'Want to go for a walk. The fresh air will do you good.'

'Sounds like a good idea. I'll just repair my make up.' She slid off the bed and headed to the bathroom.

They found a small cafe for a quick, light lunch.

'What do you want to do about lunch tomorrow? We're supposed to be meeting Christopher and Ruby.' Lucien put this to her as they wandered through the market before heading back to the hotel.

'How about we go for a picnic. I can choose what to eat and the hotel could put it up for us.' She felt a little selfish, but there were some foods she really couldn't face at the moment and it would be easier than offending Ruby by refusing her food.

'I like that idea. The weather's set to be good and it will be fun to chase after Amelia in the fresh air, rather than keeping her tied to her high chair.' He thought it would be so much more relaxed, sitting on a blanket in the park.

'Good practice for you, dear.' She grinned. 'I'll ring Ruby and suggest it. Then I'll change for dinner.'

'Hungry?'

'Yes, I am. Must be the fresh air.' She skipped out of the room and down to the lobby to use the phone.

Ruby was surprised at the suggestion but she agreed it would be nice and relaxed. Could she bring anything?

'No., I don't think so. Maybe Amelia's drink, anything in particular she likes?' Jean couldn't think of anything in particular Ruby made that she would want. Ruby's cooking was plain but sustaining. Jean only wanted something light, something easy to digest.

'She eats most things, especially sweet things.' Ruby had found her daughter had a very sweet tooth, very like Christopher.

'Right, I'll cut back on those things then.' Jean's smile came through in her voice.

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By the time lunchtime came round the following day Jean was ready to face her family. She had arranged with the hotel a wide selection of picnic foods. Some for her specifically, some of Christopher's favourites and Lucien's too. Plus the usual sandwiches, biscuits and sausage rolls, a flask of tea and some lemonade. They had arranged to meet in the park and as Jean and Lucien strolled hand in hand, Lucien carrying the basket of food, they caught sight of Ruby waving from the shade of some trees. Jean waved back, a huge smile on her face. As they approached Christopher hugged his mother and shook hands with the doctor.

Sitting on the two blankets Ruby and Christopher had brought with them, Jean told them of the places they'd seen, Lucien leant back against a tree watching and listening to this wonder. He smiled as he heard her recount their adventures, hearing her wonder in everything she had seen and done.

Amelia decided no one was paying her any attention so she decided to waddle her way over to the nice man with the beard. This 'nice man' picked her up and held her high above his head, making her giggle. He let her play with his beard and chew his tie. Jean watched him out of the corner of her eye, smiling at him.

'Mum.' Christopher saw the smile. 'Are you ok?'

'Absolutely fine, why?' She thought he'd guessed.

'You've not eaten much, and what you have eaten has been dry and plain.'

'I caught a bug on the ship, my stomach's a bit delicate.' It was only a little lie, she reasoned, she'd own up when she was sure she would be able to deliver this baby.

'Anything I can do?' He couldn't remember the last time his mother had been ill.

'No, dear, I have a doctor for a husband. I'll be fine.' She smiled at him and patted his hand. However, she was beginning to feel tired.

Lucien noticed she was flagging and decided he'd better take her back to the hotel. He had decided that as soon as they were home he would do a full blood workout on her. He had a feeling she was anaemic; it would explain her tiredness. He stood up and handed Amelia back to her father and then extended his hand to his wife. She took it and he pulled her gently to her feet. She wavered, momentarily light-headed and then gathered herself with a deep breath, allowing Lucien to pull her close. He kissed her temple lightly.

'Come on sweetheart,' he whispered, 'time to go. We've an early start tomorrow.'

Jean grimaced at the very thought. They'd booked the journey times before they left and Jean wanted to be home, but the thought of an early start left her feeling weak at the knees.

Christopher watched this interplay between the two. He was concerned and hoped his mother was right, it was just a nasty bug, she'd be better when she got home.

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As the taxi pulled up in front of the familiar house, Jean heaved a sigh of relief. The journey from Adelaide had been uncomfortable. She'd been sick before they left the hotel, sick on the train until she finally fell asleep in Lucien's arms.

Lucien carried her over the threshold, not, sadly for him, out of some romantic gesture, but simply because she was almost unable to put one foot in front of the other. He carried her straight to their bedroom and laid her on the bed, removed her shoes and her coat, pulled a blanket over her and left her to sleep.

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The next few weeks dragged for Jean. They had had to tell Charlie that she was expecting but she was not having the best time of it. She would not appear until mid morning after Lucien had given her tea and biscuits and been sure she was ready to face the day. She hated it. She hated being sick, who wouldn't, she hated having to stay in bed until she could face eating or drinking anything. Jean was not a natural lie-a-bed. She was used to being up at the crack of dawn, to have breakfast on the table and lying in bed until she was able to keep some nourishment down made her increasingly bad tempered. She had made Lucien go back to his duties as police surgeon and they arranged that surgeries would be held in the afternoons only, when Jean was at her best. He was incredibly patient with her without being too sympathetic. He made sure she had what she needed, loved her and put up with her acid tongue when she felt particularly rough.

As her twelfth week approached she noticed that she felt less sick in the morning, and even managed to keep her breakfast down, at breakfast time. Things were looking up, she hoped.

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Now Jean was able to work in the house again the atmosphere lightened, Charlie and Lucien were able to relax again, she began to bloom. Lucien smiled as he watched her move around the kitchen cooking one of her delicious meals or as she tended the garden. Her pregnancy began to show and if asked when she was in town she gladly confirmed she was expecting Lucien's baby. She got some sideways looks, as if a woman of her age should not be getting up to that sort of thing, but mostly people were happy for her.

She went to check the fruit was still getting to the orphanage and took some of her knitting up. There was a new nun there and she was introduced to Sister Philomena. Her first impression of the nun was a pious, pinch-cheeked woman. Sister Philomena looked her up and down, noticing the obvious sign of her growing pregnancy. The look was cold.

'Mrs Blake is the doctor's wife. Dr Blake does all the children's check-ups and ministers to them when they are ill.' Sister Josephine told her. She had got used to the Blake's and appreciated all that they did for the children. She was genuinely happy for them.

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Lucien went up behind Jean as she stood at the stove, he had to hold her, the case that had come to him that day had shocked him and he had a desperate need to see she was alright.

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So what has unnerved Lucien so much? The next chapter will be somewhat darker, dear reader.


	2. Chapter 2 Security

Chapter two in this murder story. Warning for some racist comments.

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Jean leaned back into him, loving the touch. He usually came into the kitchen or whichever room she was in when he arrived home after a day at the station or the morgue but today there was a different need to his touch. She turned and smiled, searching his face for a clue to his urgency.

'Jean,' He pulled her closer, 'promise me you won't go into town on your own, just for the time being, please.'

'Lucien, what's happened?' Lucien would never usually determine when and where she could go.

'There's been a particularly nasty murder, I'm just worried for your safety, that's all.' He really didn't want to go into details, but he knew that answer wouldn't satisfy her.

'That doesn't usually mean I have to stay home or go out with a security detail.' She tilted her head to one side, waiting for him to speak. She could see him thinking how he could tell her without going into too much detail, given her recent trouble with sickness.

'It was a young woman, she was pregnant and it looks like a revenge killing or a reaction to her pregnancy. I don't know, but I'm sure she was targeted because of her condition. Please, Jean, don't put yourself in danger, wait for me or Charlie to take you shopping, or even Alice.' There was so much fear in his eyes she could only agree to his request. She knew she wouldn't get any more details out of him and she was sure he had warned Charlie about discussing the case in front of her. She braced herself for nightmares and drinking, something that was so rare these days she had almost forgotten what it was like. She put her arms round his neck and pulled him into a passionate kiss, to reassure him she would take care and, for once, allow him to protect her.

Dinner was a quiet affair that evening. Usually a time when cases were discussed there was a stillness over the men. Jean tried to start conversations, but they fell into nothing. After another long silence Jean sighed and went to start washing the dinner plates. No one had cleared their plates properly, Charlie and Lucien because of the lingering image of the dead woman and Jean because she was worried about both of them. Lucien dried the dishes, not wanting to be away from her for an instant.

In the living room Charlie poured himself and Lucien a larger than usual whisky, Jean had stopped her usual sherry, it tasted odd, she'd said, so she stuck to tea or water.

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Lucien did have a nightmare that night, Jean just held him tight and murmured soothing words to him. Eventually he settled, but his sleep was fitful and, unbeknownst to her he kept waking to check his beloved wife was still next to him.

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Much as Jean loved Lucien, his constant need to keep her safe was stifling; no other murder of a woman had got him so concerned, so nervous for her safety, she couldn't understand why this one was so different. Alright the woman had been pregnant but even so...

Neither Charlie nor Alice would help her out with further details, no one at the station was willing to divulge the information she craved.

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The phone rang, breaking the stillness in the early morning. Jean felt Lucien leap out of bed, he didn't even let her answer the out of hours calls, anymore, in case it was the station. Another two murders had followed the first, the same modus operandi, Lucien had said, young pregnant women, mutilated. But that was a far as he would go, and now he would only allow her to go into town with himself of Charlie, not even Alice was deemed to be a suitable chaperone. This call, however, was from the orphanage. Could the doctor call? Sister Josephine was worried about two of the children who had been off colour for a few days but were not getting any better.

'What are the symptoms, Sister?' It was not like the nun to call unless a child was seriously ill, so it must be bad.

'They've both been unable to eat for over twenty four hours, their gums are bleeding when they clean their teeth and Jacob has a huge bruise where he banged his leg on a chair.'

Jean was by his side now, she mouthed 'The orphanage?'

He nodded, putting his hand over the received he whispered, 'Get dressed, you're coming with me.'

She knew why; Charlie was on duty and he wouldn't now leave her in the house on her own, no matter how much she told him she would keep the doors locked, not let anyone in she didn't know, he still insisted she had company or went with him. Of course she couldn't accompany him to the morgue or the station so Frank had kindly arranged she had a junior officer at the house when Lucien was there.

She was ready before him and was waiting at the door with his bag and his coat when he emerged from the bedroom.

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Sister Josephine was waiting at the door when they arrived. She hid her surprise at the doctor's wife's presence, but she had heard about the murders in town and knew how much in love with his wife Lucien was, so she supposed it was only to be expected. Lucien did not explain Jean being there as he was shown up to the room where all sick children were kept. Jean noticed the dour Sister Philomena was there, apparently tending to the children. She wasn't the warmest person in the room, stiff and uncompromising, she stood as they entered.

'Thank you, Sister.' Sister Josephine dismissed her, 'you can go and get something to eat, now.'

The other nun sailed out of the room, pursing her lips.

'Right, let's have a look,' Lucien smiled at the children. He examined them thoroughly, checking for more bruises and unusual bleeding. He was gentle with them, asking if they had eaten something they shouldn't have, or anything unusual. Had they cut or scratched themselves while outside, playing? All answers were negative. Lucien's final check was to analyse their urine. Jacob obligingly gave a sample. Using a dip strip Lucien noted blood in his urine and also in that of the other child, a girl called Elsie.

Turning to Sister Josephine, 'Do you have any rat poison on the premises?'

It was a strange question, she thought, Jean raised her eyebrows,

'Yes, doctor, we do. But it's kept well out of the way of the children, in a locked cupboard.' Sister Josephine could not think what he was getting at.

'Well, all symptoms point to Warfarin poisoning. Warfarin is the active ingredient in rat poison. It kills by making the animal bleed internally until it dies.' Lucien looked serious, hopefully the damage could be reversed in the children but it could have long term consequences for both of them. 'Can we check the cupboard and the level of the stock?'

'We haven't used any since we bought a new pack, so it should be easy to see if any has been taken.' Sister Josephine was horrified, someone poisoning the children, it was unthinkable.

They went to the kitchen where the cupboard was. It was hung high on the wall and even the nun, who was a reasonable height, had to get a stool to reach it. The key was on her house keeper's chain, so that couldn't be taken without her knowing. The pack of rat poison sat there on the top shelf, clearly marked. Sister Josephine took it down, the box had been opened and on examination there was a sachet missing.

'Is there another key?' Lucien asked, urgently.

'No, I have the only one. I assure you, doctor, I have not given it to the children.' Sister Josephine could see how it looked and if she had been he, she would have come to the same conclusion.

Lucien knew her well, in spite of a rocky start in their relationship he had come to admire and respect her. She was the last person he could think of that would willingly harm a child.

'Sister, I believe you. However, as a precaution I am going to take this away. If you have a rat problem, call me and I will oversee the use of it, just until we can sort this out.' Lucien took the unusual step of clasping the woman's hand to show her how he trusted her. 'Now, the children need to be admitted to the hospital. I just want to be sure they are given the right treatment and that nothing can be given to them that will make them any worse.'

'As you wish, doctor.' Sister Josephine had to agree.

'Don't worry about their medical bills, I'll see to that.' He smiled. His treatment of the children was free, he never charged her, this was just an extension of that care.

'Doctor, you do so much for them.' Sister Josephine could only admire the man's generosity.

'My pleasure, they are our future, aren't they? No matter where they come from, and as a father to be I have a stake in that future.' Lucien smiled. 'Now do you think, between the two of us, we can get these two into my car, and I'll drive them over to the hospital. While I do, could you ring and let them know we are on our way?'

'That sounds like the best course of action. I can carry Elsie, if you can manage Jacob.'

'Let's get to it.'

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At the hospital Jean carried Elsie in, at only four years old she was small enough, while Lucien carried the older Jacob. Two beds had been made available for the children as requested and while Lucien organised their treatment Jean sat with them and told them everything would be alright. She asked Jacob if he had any idea if he knew how they could have eaten the poison. He said he had no idea, they ate the same as everybody else.

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'What do we do now, Lucien?' Jean asked as she made them a cup of tea back at home.

'I need to check the kitchen, the waste bins, who has been cooking.' He scratched his head. 'Has someone punished them for a transgression?'

'That's a heck of a punishment.' She observed. With her boys she stuck to a smacked bottom or no treats for a set number of days. It usually worked.

'Mmm...' Lucien thought for a moment. 'Er, what do you know about the new nun?'

'Lucien! Surely you're not suggesting...' Jean was aghast, 'She's a nun.'

'She's a human being.' Lucien reminded her.

'Sister Philomena. I have to admit I've never seen her smile.' Jean said. She found the woman imposing.

A knock at the door interrupted their conversation. Lucien got up to answer it.

'Hello Dr Blake.' It was Ned, 'The Boss wants you down at the station. He's sent me to stay with Mrs Blake.' Ned liked this duty. Jean usually had cake or biscuits available in return for some odd jobs doing.

'Heard the kettle, did you Ned?' Jean called from the kitchen.

'Well, if you're offering...' Ned grinned, 'I am a bit dry.'

'Come on through.'

By the time Ned had got to the kitchen there was a steaming cup of tea and a piece of Jean's sponge cake waiting for him.

'Thanks, Mrs Blake.' He said, through a mouthful of cake crumbs.

'Don't get used to it, young man,' Jean laughed, he was such a sweet boy, 'when this case is solved it'll be back to normal duty for you.'

'Ok.' Ned grinned back. 'Want anything doing?'

Jean thought for a moment, she'd been meaning to ask Lucien to cut the grass today, but the call from the orphanage got in the way.

'Any good at mowing lawns?' She asked, she was a bit particular about the garden and she'd had to train Lucien to cut it just to her liking.

'Usually do it for my Gran.' He replied. 'Where's the mower?'

Jean showed him where the mower was kept and left him to it, telling him she would be in the kitchen preparing the evening meal. She'd call him when lunch was ready.

As she prepared vegetables and meat for a casserole there was a knock at the door. She was halfway up the hall when she realised she had promised Lucien she would not answer to door while he was out, but get her chaperone to do it.

'Surely...' she thought for an instant, but then, no, she'd promised, and she had a feeling Ned would give her away. She turned on her heel, calling, 'Just a minute!'

She called Ned in from the garden.

'Ned, there's someone at the door and I promised Lucien...' She went a little red at being seen to be subservient.

'That's ok, Mrs Beazley, he made me promise too.' Ned grinned and went to see who it was.

The door open he saw a nun he didn't recognise.

'Hello, can I help you?' He was most polite. The nun looked him up and down as if he was something the cat had dragged in. What were the Blake's doing having this being in the house? And what were the police doing hiring such a person?

'I'd like to see Mrs Blake.' She was sharp, impolite, but Ned was used to it and ignored it.

'Who shall I say is calling?' Ned risked a smile.

'Sister Philomena, from the Children's Home.'

Ned called through to Jean who said to let her in. He escorted her into the kitchen.

'Thank you Ned,' Jean smiled, 'Lunch will be read in about half an hour.'

'Thanks Mrs Blake. I should have finished the lawn by then.' He headed back out to the garden hoping she would be safe with the nun.

'Sit down, Sister.' Jean indicated a chair at the table. 'Would you like some tea?'

'Thank you, no.' Her voice sent shudders through Jean, who made a mental note not to be so uncharitable.

'Mrs Blake. I'll come straight to the point.' Sister Philomena seemed to take on the manner of an old headmistress Jean had known and been terrified of when she was a child, 'I don't like the suggestion that the children have been poisoned at the orphanage.'

'Well, that's more the doctor's area than mine.' Jean remained pleasant, 'those were his diagnoses, I'm sure there is a logical explanation for it.'

'Those children should count themselves lucky to be in such a place, a roof over their heads and food. What else do they need? They have, for the most part, been abandoned, not wanted, they should be grateful.'

'I'm sure they are, ' Jean was not having very Christian thoughts at this moment 'But they still need love as well as a roof and food, don't you think?' She offered a smile, but it was ignored.

'Children like that are a curse on our society, taking without giving. Born of sin, they are sinners themselves.'

Jean was now angry but refused to show it.

'I think you should go now, Sister,' Jean intoned through gritted teeth. 'I have to see to Constable Simmons' and my husband's lunches.'

'You intend to feed that creature,' she inclined her head in the direction of the garden, 'in your home.'

Jean stood up, flushed with anger.

'Constable Simmons!' she called, the mower had stopped, he must have finished.

'Mrs Blake,' he poked his head round the back door.

'Kindly escort Sister Philomena out.'

Ned took one look at Jean and moved over to the nun and took her elbow to guide her out.

'This way, Sister.'

'Take your hands off me!' Sister Philomena stalked out of the kitchen and up to the front door, where Ned politely wished her 'good day' and went back to the kitchen.

'Ned,' Jean looked at him, her eyes filled with sorrow that this should have happened in her home, 'I am so sorry. If I'd known how she would treat you I would never have let her in. Don't ever let her into this house again.'

'Don't worry, Mrs Blake.' Ned smiled, 'I've met worse. But she's upset you and Dr Blake is not going to be happy about that.'

'How on earth did she get sent to work in an orphanage? She must scare the children rigid.'

'God moves in mysterious ways, Mrs Blake.' Ned remarked as he washed his hands.

'Mysterious ways? He's lost the plot with that one!'

Ned was surprised at this, everyone knew Mrs Blake attended church regularly, it was a bit out of character to challenge the Almighty, he thought.

'Who's lost the plot?' Jean hadn't heard Lucien turn the key in the door.

'Oh Lucien, your timing...' She went and greeted him with a kiss, Ned was not embarrassed he'd seen it often enough when he was on security detail!

'What? Good or bad?' He kissed her back.

'Not sure, where do you stand on punching nuns?' Jean put the plates out for their lunch.

'Not in best interests of any of us, I'd have thought.' Lucien went to the sink and washed his hands. 'Why?'

'I've had a visit from Sister Philomena.' Jena sat down and indicated Ned should help himself.

'The one that looks like she's sucking a lemon?' Lucien reached over for the bread.

Ned spluttered, 'Good description, doc.' He managed to say, as Jean also burst out laughing.

'That's the one.' And she told him what the woman had said and how she had been so rude to and about Ned.

'Well, in that case, I'll have to think of some particularly uncomfortable cures for whatever ails her in the future. She'll think twice about insulting my wife and my friends.' Lucien had a twinkle in his eye, it wasn't just the children that got free treatment at the orphanage.

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So, what exactly is Lucien hiding?


	3. Chapter 3 An Ugly Truth

It had been over two months since the first murder of the pregnant women. Lucien and the police were no nearer to finding out who was the perpetrator of such a heinous crime. He had been able to keep most of the more gruesome details from Jean but some other details were being leaked to the press. The staff at the Courier could only say that the information was passed anonymously, typed on cheap paper and posted from out of town. They bowed to Carlyle's request and passed all further correspondence straight to the police without publishing it.

No pregnant woman went out alone, if they weren't with their husbands or lovers they were in a large group of other women. Jean managed to arrange to do some shopping this way, with Lucien dropping her off at a pre-arranged meeting place and collecting her from the club when she had finished.

It was on one of these trips when Jean was just over seven months pregnant that the full enormity of the situation was brought home to her. She and Lucien were walking from the club to the car. They held hands while Lucien had his bag in his free hand and Jean was carrying a parcel of nappies she would need when their baby was born. Ordinarily Lucien left his bag in the car when he went to collect his wife but Cec had asked him to come and take a look at a cut on his hand. It wasn't healing well. Lucien had tended to it, and told him it would heal now. As it was early evening Lucien suggested they have an early dinner at the club, to save Jean cooking when they got home.

As they passed the entry to a back alley Lucien's keen hearing caught the cry of what he thought was a cat. It sounded in some distress and much as Jean was not keen on the animals she went with him to find out what was wrong.

She stopped short as she looked at the most awful sight. Tucked under some outside steps was a baby, naked, just born, cord untied.

'Lucien!' She pointed at the child.

He swivelled round on his heel and looked to where she pointed.

'Oh god! Not another one?'

'This is what you've been hiding from me?' Jean now understood. Lucien was down by the child, tying the cord with some surgical thread from his bag. With luck this one would make it. But it would need warmth, the night was getting colder. Jean must have read his thoughts. She quickly unpacked a nappy from the parcel she carried and wrapped the babe in it, then took the bundle to her breast, warming it inside her coat. She was far too shocked to think about being sick, she looked at Lucien, he was pale. He had hidden this from her to save her sensibilities, it was a heavy burden to carry all this time. She watched him look round, searching until his eyes alighted on a spot just behind the stairs. The baby's mother lay there, her abdomen open, cut to allow the child to be removed, both then left to die. He took his coat off and laid it over the lifeless form of the young woman. Standing up he composed himself and turned to Jean, standing there holding a so precious bundle, both of them willing it to survive its traumatic birth and the cold. She could just see the remnants of tears on his cheeks. She put out her hand and touched him, looking into the clear blue, but troubled eyes.

'This is why I wouldn't let you out on your own, why I wouldn't tell you the full story. I would never want you to witness or hear tell of such a monstrous act.' He pulled her close, 'I'm so sorry, sweetheart.'

'Lucien,' she didn't really know what to say, how to thank him for trying to protect her, so she focussed on the practicalities. 'We need to get this little one somewhere warm, and see to her mother. Let's go back to the club. You can use the phone there and it's warmer than out here.' Her voice was soft and gentle.

'Cec,' Lucien called as they went into the bar. 'I need to use your phone.'

'Of course, Sir.' Cec, unfailingly polite just nodded his acceptance of Lucien's request.

Lucien and Jean both headed into the office where Blake could make the call without being overheard by the customers. An ambulance organised, Alice called to do the autopsy, Lucien stepped out, thanked Cec and took Jean to the hospital.

The baby was washed and clothed, examined by an obstetrician and pronounced the luckiest child on earth. Small she may, be but strong and determined, the nurses had declared. Jean was allowed to see her once she had been settled in a cot, she put her hand out to the babe who grabbed her finger and held on as if she'd never let go. Jean let fall a few tears, tears for the child's mother who would never get to see this miracle of nature and tears for a baby abandoned to die by some godless being.

'Mrs Blake, Mrs Blake.' A nurse stood next to her, holding a bottle of milk. 'Would you like to feed her?' She felt it was a kindness to Jean and she had a feeling. The Blakes were known for their championing the underdog, and if this wasn't one of those cases she didn't know what was.

'Yes, yes I would.' Jean smiled, 'I suppose we should give her a name, shouldn't we? Just until her father is found.'

'Perhaps you could suggest something. Dr Blake asked me to let you know her mother had no ring on.' The nurse smiled.

Jean picked up the little scrap of humanity and sat down, cradling her while she gave her the milk. The nurse left her, lost in thought about a suitable name for an orphan. Not one that was destined to be cared for by that awful Sister Philomena, who'd bustled in one day to see Jacob and Elsie and frightened the poor kids to death, she thought.

Lucien peered round the door. He'd decided there was little he could do to help Alice, it was all so depressingly familiar, so he'd go and find the love of his life. He stood watching her, not wanting to break the silence. He watched as Jean lifted the child onto her shoulder to wind her. The baby gave a satisfying burp and Jean smiled.

'Better, poppet.' She whispered, then... 'Poppy, would you like that?'

'Poppies are a symbol of remembrance.' Lucien was by her side, smiling down on her.

'Fitting, then, don't you think?' She smiled, sadly up at him. 'Lucien?'

'Yes.'

'Does she have to go to the orphanage?' Jean had worries about the place at the moment. Sister Philomena had said these children were not wanted, sinners because they were born of sin.

'Where else?' Lucien was often described as 'thick' by his wife for not seeing the blindingly obvious, but this time he was playing along with her. He knew exactly what she was thinking, but in just under two months time, or thereabouts...

She looked up at him about to roll her eyes but stopped when she saw the understanding look on his handsome face.

'I know, you think I'm being silly. Two new babies within two months, but it will only be until her family are found.' Whether she could give Poppy up to her family was something she wasn't sure of, but, even so, she could not send her to be cared(?) for by Sister Philomena.

'I don't think you're silly at all.' he reassured her, 'I think you're beautiful and loving, and of course we can look after her, for however long it takes. I ought to tell you, though, none of the other women's families have come forward. All the girls were unmarried, so may have been turned out to fend for themselves.'

Jean sighed, sadly. 'How long will she have to stay in hospital?'

'Well, if she keeps this up, not long. About a week is usual, so let's leave it at that. You can come every day, if you want. I'll check with Sister, but I'm sure they'll welcome you taking the pressure off them. There's been a bit of a population boom lately.'

Jean had noticed that most of the cots were occupied and smiled. She put, the now sleeping, Poppy in her cot and kissed her goodnight.

Sister was delighted that Mrs Blake would be on hand to look after the newest addition to the nursery, it meant that her nurses could concentrate on the other babies.

Lucien, meanwhile was happier that Jean was occupied and safe. It meant he could concentrate on finding out the why of the murders, and the who, without worrying about a chaperone for Jean. Ned wouldn't be happy, no more cake with his morning cuppa!

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Jean was arranging with Sister, Poppy's discharge from hospital. In spite of her traumatic entrance into the world she had thrived. She had glorious, almost black hair, she would never be mistaken for a child of theirs, but she would be loved as one for as long as she was with them.

There was a disturbance out in the corridor,

'Sorry, you can't go in there!' Nurses called as Sister Philomena swept into the ward.

'I'll take the child now, Sister, her cot is ready at the Home.' She held out her arms for the baby. Jean almost snatched her from the nursing Sister and held Poppy tight.

Sister Walker turned to the nun and stood between her and Jean.

'I'm sorry, Sister..?'

'Philomena' The nun provided.

'Ah, yes, Sister Philomena,' The nurse didn't move. 'Poppy is being fostered by Dr and Mrs Blake, you don't need to worry about her.' She smiled, sweetly.

Sister Philomena snorted, 'They can't look after a baby!'

'Why not?'

'They are...' she searched for a valid reason, 'they won't have time, Mrs Blake is expecting her own child, how can she look after some other woman's little bastard!'

'How dare you! You heartless creature! Poppy is more than welcome at our home, I can look after two children as easily as one. And don't you ever, EVER, refer to Poppy in that manner again!' Jean was furious, Sister Walker thought she was in danger of going into early labour,

'It's alright, Mrs Blake.' She soothed. 'Your husband is waiting downstairs, time for Poppy to go home.' She ushered Jean out of the ward and down to Lucien.

Lucien noticed that Jean looked angry, very angry. As she got into the car Sister Walker pulled him to one side and quickly explained what had happened in the nursery. As she did so Sister Philomena stormed out of the hospital, glaring at the doctor on her way.

'Thank you, Sister,' Lucien smiled, 'Poppy will be safe with us and I will see that Jean has as little contact with her as possible.'

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Jean, Lucien and Charlie settled into a routine. Lucien took his turn at night feeds, he wouldn't be able to with their own child, and it seemed to calm him. Jean refused to admit she was tired, but let Lucien and Charlie do more for her than usual. They had already decided another part-time housekeeper would be appointed when Jean was close to giving birth, so that had taken some of the load off her. Charlie did more of the cooking than he usually did, he was expanding his repertoire from his usual tasty roast to casseroles and grills. Jean was impressed. She said he should have been a chef. But he said he didn't fancy the hours. Jean grinned, given his shifts at the police station this was absurd.

'Lucien?' Jean had settled Poppy and was sitting with her feet up on the couch.

'Hmm?' He was reading the paper, a picture of domestic bliss.

'When I ...' She wanted to put something to him he may not like, or agree with.

He looked up and smiled, 'Yes?'

'Do you think it would be a good idea, I mean would you agree to me having this baby here, at home?' She waited for his reply, almost holding her breath.

'Well, I'd prefer you to be in hospital,' he went over and sat next to her, 'but, I suppose you're in good health, you've done this before, so maybe, if you feel more comfortable here then perhaps it would be easier on you.'

'I would be happier here.' She cuddled close to him, 'you could attend me, Poppy would be safe. Sister Philomeany wouldn't be able to say we couldn't cope.'

Lucien laughed at the new name for the nun. It fitted. 'By the way, don't we need another bassinet?'

'No. Poppy can go into the cot, this one can go into the bassinet. Both will fit into the same room.' Jean was ever practical. She didn't want to buy two of everything in case Poppy was claimed by her family. Photographs of all the murdered girls had been published in the papers of Victoria but no one had come forward to claim them. It saddened both Jean and Lucien, but Jean reasoned that they were so ashamed of their offspring's behaviour and there were no babies, except Poppy, to claim, so they didn't.

Each girl was buried in a pauper's grave, with only Jean and Lucien to mourn them. Their plaques stated 'Unknown to all but God', except Poppy's mother's. That read 'Unknown to all but God, mother to Poppy.' Jean laid flowers every week, promising to look after Poppy for as long as she was able. The sight of the birth and death had a profound effect on her, she would never forget what she saw.

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Something nagged at the back of Jean's brain the closer to giving birth she got. She could not stop replaying the scene in her mind, but it was more than that. The urgency with which Sister Philomeany had tried to take Poppy to the home. The bitterness and hatred of Ned, and others of Aboriginal descent. The coldness of the woman when dealing with children and the declaration that illegitimate children were a curse on society, sinners.

Lucien listened to her reasoning, he'd not thought beyond the fact that the nun was hard of heart, some were, some were disappointed in their lot, not loved, unappreciated, some were just plain jealous of a love physical as well as spiritual.

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He sat in the chair. It had been a long night, but now he was a father, his beautiful daughter lay in his arms, sleeping peacefully. His wife asleep in their bed, exhausted but blissfully happy. An easy birth, he couldn't believe how well Jean had coped with the pain, but now it was all over. They were a family, all four of them. He'd set in place the necessary workings to add Poppy to their family, permanently. He knew it was what Jean wanted and it seemed daft to wait any longer for the family to appear, contrite, and full of apologies.

Jean had said he could choose the baby's name. But what? She had been adamant that 'Jean' was not to be chosen, it was too plain, too old. Poppy had been chosen because of the link to 'Remembrance', but for their baby...what?

'Hope!' He shouted out, 'Hope, that's what we'll call her.'

Jean stirred at the noise he'd not meant to make.

'Hmm?' Jean turned to him, smiling as she saw him cradling their daughter.

'Oh, Jean I'm sorry.' He was instantly at her side. 'I just had a thought, shall we call her Hope.'

'What an unusual idea, but I like it. Can we add Genevieve in, Hope Genevieve Blake sounds rather nice, don't you think?' She smiled and held out her arms to the stirring baby. 'I think she 'hopes' she's going to be fed.'

Lucien passed his daughter over and, alerted to the sound of Poppy making her demands he went over to the cot. Picking her up he smiled. He was used to seeing to her now, and went into the kitchen to get her bottle. Taking her back into the bedroom he sat and started to feed her. Jean grinned then thought. Would she be the same as she was all those years ago? Able to feed the state.

'Lucien,' She spoke quietly , 'bring her over to me.'

'Jean,' he went and sat on the side of the bed, 'you're busy.'

'I over-produced with the boys. Maybe...' She held out her free arm for Poppy.

'Are you sure?' He knew that mother's milk was mother's milk and in years gone by it wasn't unusual for a new mother to act as mother to another child; think 'wet-nurses'.

'She may not take, but I'd like to try.'

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Hope Genevieve and Poppy Jean thrived, both fed by Jean, young as they were they formed a bond. When one cried the other joined in. Life at the Blake's home was full of joy, baby smells and gurgles. The one fly in the ointment was Lucien's failure to find the culprit of the crimes that had brought Poppy into their lives. He had acted on Jean's suggestion that Sister Philomeany, (she refused to call her anything else) may be involved. He'd had her followed, nothing. Even gone to the extent of encouraging Jacob to tell him anything he thought might be of interest. It was easy, he had to keep a check on the two that had ingested Warfarin, it was his duty! But still nothing. Another murder of an unmarried mother and baby strengthened his resolve. He, on the pretext of checking all the children at the orphanage, managed to check the dustbins. The drive to the orphanage was long and the older children were tasked with taking the bins down once a week. So on the way out one day, after another death he stopped, out of sight of the building. Digging deep he found surgical scrubs, drenched in blood. He pulled them out and stuffed them into the car, heading straight for the morgue. Blood typing was his first thought.

He and Alice got to work. They very soon found a match to the most recent death. There was also a suspicious bloodstain on the inside of the cuff of one wrist. Too far up to be that of the victim and on analysis it proved to be of a different group. Now who had worn the scrubs? They were too long for Sister Josephine and she had no need for them, anyway. Neither, to their knowledge, did Philomeany. They both dismissed Josephine as the culprit, they knew her too well, and had got to know her as a firm but loving nun, who had become more loving of the children in her care over the years. Philomeany was an unknown factor. But she was hard, unbending whenever Lucien saw her. Surely not.

Lucien took a chance. He told Frank what he had found out and that he was sure the nun was the guilty party, but he had no proof. It was decided. A watch would be set up at the end of the orphanage drive, out of sight. If Sister Philomena left the grounds during the evening, for it was then that the crimes took place, she would be followed.

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Ned was first on watch. He was sustained by a piece of Jean's cake and a flask of tea. If the police were to be on watch all night Jean decided she would make sure they were well catered for. He had just poured himself a second cup of tea, thinking he would have to get out of the car at some point when he noticed a shadow in the hedgerows. He watched the figure sneak down into the outer reaches of the town centre. He put the car into neutral and placed his foot gently on the clutch. Starting the engine, gently, hoping not to disturb the night time stroller he inched forward. The gentle incline of the road meant he could coast silently behind, controlling the car on the brake. The figure continued on her way, not noticing the following car, determined. Ned took the opportunity to contact the station.

Frank alerted the men, those on duty as well as off, and they gathered in the office.

'What do you want us to do, boss?' Asked Bill Hobart.

Frank thought then said, 'Each of you stands around the town, in the shadows. It always happens in back alleys or cul-de-sacs. Try and stay in pairs. We know which way they are coming. Keep your eyes peeled. Go!'

Frank picked up the phone and dialled Lucien's number.

'Blake,' came the terse answer.

'We're on it. Lock up, I'll be in touch. Keep Jean and the babies safe.' Frank had no other thought than Jean and the babies were in danger. Whoever it was who was committing these murders now knew that Blake was involved in the search and detection, and that could put him and his family in the most perilous position.

'Who was it, darling?.' Jean moved to his side.

'Frank,' he pulled her close. 'Bring the girls into the lounge, it's the centre of the house, the window to our room is too big to afford you your safety.'

'It's about to happen, isn't it?' Fear showed in her eyes.

'Go and get the girls,' he urged, 'they won't mind the extra cuddles.' He tried to smile but it was hard, Jean knew what danger they were in. 'We'll get them, this time.'

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Ned kept the radio channel open, whatever happened base would hear. The road rolled slowly downwards towards town. Ned noted this meant passing the Blake's house.

'Please God, she passes that.' He quietly prayed. But she didn't, she turned into the drive. Ned stopped the car, quietly letting base know where he was, and got out. The gravel on the drive gave away any footsteps so he walked on Jean's well kept borders. He'd have to sort that out later.

A crash of shattering glass broke the night's silence. Inside the house Jean jumped and clutched her daughters tight. Lucien grabbed her and almost dragged her to the kitchen, pushing her under the table. He pulled his revolver out of the waistband of his trousers, she may be a nun, but she was a cold hearted killer and he was prepared to do whatever would keep his family safe. More glass shards hit the floor in their room and the crunch of footsteps on the pieces rang through the house.

The babies started to whimper. Jean pulled first Poppy then Hope to her breasts, fervently praying that this would keep them quiet.

Lucien stood on guard, waiting. The footsteps on the broken glass subsided, softer ones followed. His senses heightened, shades of night guard duty came over him, he listened, his eyes darting here and there, trying to find a shape. a movement in the dark.

Then he noticed it, a shape, like one imagined a ghost, flitting towards the kitchen, then all of a sudden a yell, a crash of falling bodies and silence, punctuated by groans.

Holding his revolver in front of him he advanced, almost silently towards the dark shape in the space between the living room and the kitchen.

'Stand up!' He ordered, no longer the kind hearted country doctor, but Major Blake of the Australian Army, Intelligence Division.

The shape moved, stretching upwards, no limbs apparent, just a shape.

'It's me!' Ned Simmons' voice split the air. 'I've got her.'

'Ned?' Lucien went to switch on the kitchen light. The sight that greeted his eyes made him gasp in wonder. Ned Simmons had the nun's arms firmly pinned behind her, her wimple and veil were askew showing her cropped hair underneath. She scowled at the doctor.

'Get this creature off me!' She screamed, 'he is an abomination!'

'Madam,' Ned was at his most polite, 'I am as God made me, in his own image. I suggest you don't insult the Almighty.'

'Lucien,' a small voice from under the table called him. He bent down to see his Jean, holding her babies close, wrapped in her robe. He helped her out and settled her on the couch in the living room, telling her it was all over.

'Sorry about the mess, Mrs Blake,' Ned called softly into the living room. 'I'll see it's repaired tomorrow; if that's alright.'

Jean smiled and then laughed lightly, 'Oh, Ned.'

Frank, Bill and Charlie arrived almost as soon as Ned had apologised for the mess, that wasn't his fault. Charlie let them in. Lucien told them what had happened and Sister Philomena was led off to be accommodated in the cells for the night. She would be interviewed the following morning.

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'Always left behind. Ignored in favour of the little bastards brought to my parents' door. Bloody missionaries, that's what they were, no time for their own daughter, then shipped off to a convent.'

Philomena was bitter, slighted by her own family she had found a way to get her own back, to be noticed. Unwanted by their parents these babies were shown love by her parents but they had been unable to show that same love to their own flesh and blood. She had become twisted, warped and the only way she could find to relieve this feeling was to rid the world of these god forsaken brats, the worst of which was those of aboriginal heritage. Raised in Africa, the 'little brown babies' were her parents life and she hated them.

It saddened Lucien, that someone could hate a different race so passionately, so deeply, as to want to wipe them off the face of the earth. Well, he thought, that was how wars started, and he didn't think that needed to happen again.

Lucien's report stated that Sister Philomena was not of sound mind and recommended she should be confined to a Mental Asylum for the rest of her days. He could not see she would ever be safe to be let out into society again.

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Jean took the babies up to the orphanage accompanied by Lucien out of choice not necessity. She wanted to introduce them to Sister Josephine and the children. She was proud of them and she wanted to let the nun know she held no grudge against her or the orphanage. Sister Josephine was truly glad to see them and the children cooed over the babies. She was sorry that Sister Philomena had turned out to be such a troubled soul and she would pray for her. Jean wasn't sure her prayers would be answered but left that to the nun's own conscience.

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Sorry, it's a bit of angst against nuns. Philomena is based on stories my mother told of a nun at the school she went to whose typical punishment was to hit pupils over the knuckles with a chair leg! Apologies. Reviews and comments welcome.


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